


Toybox

by Riddledwithparasites



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Secretary (2002), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Bondage, Character Death, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Master/Slave, Meta, My First Fanfic, Obsession, Original Character(s), Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Stalking, Tags May Change, Violence, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddledwithparasites/pseuds/Riddledwithparasites
Summary: Lee Holloway's fantasies have a life of their own, quite literally. What happens to our play things when we aren't using them? They go in The Toybox, of course! Personalities clash and mayhem ensues as the residents of The Toybox vie for power and attention.





	1. Welcome Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you to anyone who takes time out of their day to read my nonsense! I'm Riddledwithparasites and this is my first fic! Please be gentle, I have literally no idea what I'm doing...
> 
> Fair warning - this fic will be dark and violent at times and the line between noncon and dubcon will be toed well enough that I feel like you should not read this if those things trigger you. 
> 
> That being said, my itention is not to depict scenes of violence for violence's sake. If this fic needs to have a point (and I don't think it really does) it is to illustrate and explore how vastly different our fantasies can be from what we actually want... but I'm also just having fun and trying to get back into the habit of writing so...
> 
> Anyway, I hope some people enjoy this!

The harsh light of Kylo’s quarters seemed to bore into his head like a drill to his temple. He took a long pull from the bottle of Ambrostine he had squirreled away the last time he was planetside. His original intention for the sweet liquor was to celebrate a special occasion. The First Orders inevitable victory over The Resistance, perhaps. Or even just some glorious day when Lord Snoke finally allows him to burn the smirk off the that sniveling wretch, Hux. Kylo Ren did not intend to use the stinging elixir as a salve for his burning hatred. Nevertheless, he drank. 

Normally, The leader of the Knights of Ren never partook in such a common enterprise. He hated the out of body, careless sensation. He liked… no. He NEEDED to be in control of his faculties. But today was an exception. Hux had driven him half mad with rage… why? It was hard now to remember and honestly he didn’t care. Kylo looked down at the nearly empty bottle. Where had it gone? He didn’t remember drinking it… but he felt it. Trying to remember how long he had been sitting there or when he had arrived made his head ache even more. 

The liquor and blaring lights were making him uncomfortably hot. A sheen of sweat was coating his forehead. With a groan he pulled himself up from his little dining table and began unfastening his complicated uniform. First the gloves, which he placed carefully on top of his helmet on the table. He removed his cape, then his waistband, and finally his shirt. It was this garment that gave him some grief. In his inebriated state he tried to pull the whole thing off without unstrapping the sleeves. He found himself caught up in a tangle of thick fabric. He stumbled, cracking his knee hard on the table and letting out a string of curses as the furnishing crashed to the floor, spilling the remains of his Ambrostine and his dinner along with it.

Kylo cursed again as he pulled the shirt off at last and saw, standing meekly in the doorway, a woman in an off white custodial uniform. The girl was carrying a basket laden with cleaning supplies. She was stifling a laugh and as their eyes met, the ghost of a smile left her face. It was replaced by utter dread as she recognized the man before her. In two long strides he was upon her, ripping the basket from her hands and grabbing her roughly by the shirt front. Bottles and brushes were still skittering across the cold metal floor as he lifted her a foot off the ground, pressed against the wall beside the door. She clutched at his wrist to steady herself.

“I’m sorry, sir! I’m sorry, sir! Please-” she squealed, her legs flailing in panic. 

Kylo gave her a vicious shake until she stopped her writhing. His free hand shot up to cover her mouth and the two were inches apart, practically nose to nose. Kylo boiled with anger at her intrusion into his space. All the deliberate and painstaking effort to maintain anonymity and craft a fearsome reputation had been underminded by one clumsy drunken stumble. She had seen his face, but moreover she had seen him making a fool of himself. She had seen his humanity and she had laughed. The girl would doubtless tell all her little confidantes. The rumor would spread how the great Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren, slayer of Jedi, favored pupil of the Supreme Leader, had been bested by a shirt. He growled in rage, shaking the girl once more as she stared with wide unblinking eyes. 

“Were you laughing at me, little mouse? You? A pointless cog?”

She shook her head frantically from behind his hand. Kylo closed his eyes as he reached into her mind with the Force. He intended to burn the memory from her brain. In his rage it was possible he could leave her a drooling vegetable, but it would be worth it. If nothing else, destroying something would help quell his anger. Even the thought of it dulled the edge of his rage, making it possible to wield the Force with more precision. He entered her mind, like plunging into a freezing pool. The icy fog of panic and fear was thickly layered over every thought and memory. With a waive of his hand, Kylo pushed her terror aside, delving deeper into her mind. Ren was surprised to find that beneath this initial layer the girl had only one discernable thought, repeating on a loop like a glitch in a computer.

“Cogs aren’t pointless. Cogs aren’t pointless”. Images of spinning gears, the smaller turning the larger to keep a great machine running, played in her brain. Kylo was intrigued that such a defensive and seemingly irrational though would dominate the forefront of her mind at such a time. The fact that she was correct and had noticed his illogical metaphor filled him with rage. Between rage and intrigue, Ren would instinctually prefer the former. He snapped back to reality and released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. A tight , angry smile spread across his face. 

“Laughing and spying and talking back!” he spat the words at her with such venom, she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes, even as confusion clouded her expression.

With a growl he dropped her to the ground, spinning to stand between her huddled form and the door. She kept her eyes locked on the floor as she crawled to gather her supplies and shove them back into her basket, all the while spouting her apologies and promising to leave straight away. Kylo watched her, looming above the girl as immovable and somber as a statue. The sudden rush of adrenaline had sobered him up some, though the initial shock was waning. He found himself fascinated by the way she trembled and wouldn’t meet his eye. Her terror was so palpable and she was so easily cowed before him. She was nobody, weak and breakable. Kylo Ren was struck with the sudden thought of how satisfying the process of breaking her would be. He was just the right amount of drunk to indulge his base instinct to dominate, posses, and ultimately destroy. He felt like a cat, playing with his food. And my what a lovely mouse she was. 

The girl stacked the last of her rags in the basket and stood to leave, head hunched and tears streaming down her face. Kylo didn’t move, his daunting form blocking the door. She went to step around him. He blocked her way again. The girl took a breath and willed herself to speak. 

“Please sir, I’ll be going, I-Im so sorry to intrude.”  
Kylo gently plucked the basket from her hands and upended it on the floor. The girl took an uneven breath and looked up a him in confusion. He spoke with a calm that belied the anger in his eyes.

“I didn’t say you could stand.”

The girl stood still for a moment, then lowered herself to her knees, locking eyes with the floor once more. 

“Good little cog. Pick them up again, then ask me politely if you may stand and leave.”

With trembling fingers, she did as she was told. Once every spray bottle and brush was collected, the girl gathered her nerves and asked in a shaking voice,

“Please, sir, may I please go? I-I have a lot of other rooms to clean, I’ll be missed.”

Kylo Ren lowered himself down onto his haunches, crouching until he was eye to eye with the prostrate figure before him. He squinted at her 

“No.”

“No?” she repeated in surprise, her face falling. 

“That’s right. No. You may not stand until you’ve been punished for your impudence and you may not leave until I’m certain that an important cog like yourself knows it’s place.”

She choked back a sob -her wide eyes darting around the room in search of a way out. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. It was an accident! B-but like I said, I’ll be missed, I have to go, sir.”

Kylo rose swiftly to his feet and made a call out on his holographic transmitter. After a moments wait a short blond man wearing a crisp white uniform flickered into being before them. He was out of breath, clearly having run over to take the call. 

“Dotham Gragher, here. Head of maintenance."

Still half dressed, Kylo opted to communicate by voice alone. 

“This is Commander Ren. I have custodian –“ Kylo snapped his fingers at her.  
“357”  
“ custodian 357 here with me now. I will be reprimanding her for entering my quarters without permission or warning, mocking a superior officer, and attempting to leave before an appropriate punishment has been administered. Have someone else cover her duties until such a time as I deem her fit to serve on The Finalizer. After all-“  
Kylo looked her in the eye.  
"-even the smallest cog is needed for the machine to function.”

“as you will it, Lord Ren. My deepest apologies.” Huffed Dotham, bowing. Kylo abruptly cut the transmission. 

“See now? You won’t be missed.” 

He walked slowly back to her, his hands clasped behind his back. He circled her like a shark. Custodian 357 stammered in shock, trying to find the words to get herself out of this terrible predicament. Kylo shushed her. 

“Did you think he would stop me? Defend your actions? Demand an explanation? Or perhaps you think that I will let you go because I am somehow in the wrong?” he stopped his circling and crouched down in front of her once more. Kylo gripped her chin and made her look up at him. 

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad new, but I can do whatever I want. You may be an important little cog, but you’re an important little cog in MY MACHINE.” 

She flinched at his last words, which he growled through gritted teeth.

He traced his fingers lightly across her jaw, down her neck, across her exposed collar bone, raising goosebumps along the way. She trembled, willing herself not to shrink from his touch - though every fiber of her being urged her to bolt. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She was terrified of this man, of what he could do to her. And yet, she found within herself some small semblance of resolve. In one way or another, she had always suffered. She could take it.  
Kylo saw that her shirt had opened slightly where he had grabbed her, the top 2 buttons coming undone. His fingers moved to undo the third as she whimpered quietly.

“it seems only fair after all.” He said, gesturing vaguely to his own bare chest. 

She continued to sob as he worked the third button loose, then the 4th. He leaned in, trailing a row of light kisses along the path his fingers had just taken, down the exposed flesh of her neck, across her clavicle, and down to the small expanse of skin between her breasts. This was just barely made visible by the gap in her open shirt. Kylo moved to pull the fabric aside, exposing her fully to the cool open air of his chambers. 

On instinct, she tried slapping his hand away. Before she could make contact he struck like a viper, snatching her wrist in his right hand. His other hand wrapped around her, pressing the girl to him tightly by the small of her back. She shivered as he leaned into her ear and uttered a breathy whisper.

“You know I can take whatever I want?”

Then suddenly a unfamiliar sound blasted through the air.

DING-DONG!

The lights flickered slightly and Kylo sprung to his feet, immediately on guard. The noise seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It left as quickly as it began and Kylo spun in a circle trying to locate the source.

DING-DONG!

It sounded again. "What in the hell was that?!” he asked, but when he turned to look down at the girl, he saw she was gone. 

“What?” he exclaimed, overcome with confusion. Baffled, he stepped forward into the empty air where the girl had been kneeling only seconds before. He half expected to hit solid matter, but alas she was gone with no trace. The lights flickered and the noise sounded again, deafeningly loud.

DING-DONG!

Then with one final flicker, the world went black. 

\--------------  
Lee Holloway sat up in the bath, pulling her knees to her chest. She waited, half hoping the interloper would just go away. It was probably just a girl scout or something… then again, she wouldn’t mind a few boxes of Tagalongs… 

Lee dunked her head under the water one more time to straighten the tangles from of her hair before lifting herself out of the bath. The doorbell rang again as she wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe, careful to pull it close around her neck and synch it tightly at the waist. She didn’t want to flash anyone, after all. The bell sounded once more as she dripped down the hall, leaving wet footprints in her wake.

“I’m coming!” she cried. Lee glanced through the peep hole and was surprised to find no one there. She opened the door a crack and poked her head out. The UPS truck rumbled down her street, its driver giving Lee one lazy wave out the window. She returned the gesture, then bent to retrieve the padded yellow envelope from her front mat. 

The name on the return address made her groan. E. Edward Grey. She scrunched her face in frustration. June 17th. Today was June 17th. She had forgotten, but Edward certainly hadn’t. No, he would never miss an opportunity to torture her. There had been a time when she enjoyed that torment, but not anymore. It had been half a decade since she saw him last and still the gifts arrived like clockwork every year. How could she have forgotten? Well, perhaps that was progress in a way. 

She brought the envelope into her small kitchen, sitting down at her old aluminum dinette set with the gift in front of her. She drummed her fingers on the table, looking at it. Sighing, she ripped open the envelope and unceremoniously dumped the little red velvet box onto the formica. Lee opened the box to find a necklace, rose gold and beautifully crafted in the likeness of an orchid. A sizable diamond was set in the center of the bloom. It glinted up at her, mockingly. The gift was lovey and thoughtful and perfectly to her taste. Lee snapped the case shut, tossing it into her plastic trash can. He knew her so well. Surely well enough to realize he had ruined her evening. 

Lee Holloway stomped back to the tub and, upon finding the water cold, drained it and blew out the candles she had set around the room. Though it was still early, she put herself to bed. She was too angry to cry and too sad to do anything else.

“Happy anniversary.” She mumbled to herself bitterly as she fell backward into her soft bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading this! The second chapter should lend some clarity :)


	2. The Painted Man

His mind was blank. Still. Quiet. Empty. His eyes were open, but any images they absorbed seemed to make no great impression on him. A field of dull grey, like an overcast sky. Blank. Still. Quiet. Empty. His ears seemed to work, but the noises he heard were also unworthy of note. They seemed muffled and garbled, rising and falling in volume. An ear pressed against a shell, a low ocean sound. Perhaps he was adrift at sea? But no. He wasn’t moving. He was still, laying flat on his back looking up. He was not unable to move, but rather unable to conceive of the idea of moving. The thought – or any thought, really- wouldn’t have occurred to him. He was blank. Still. Quiet. And as empty as a shell. 

There was no telling how long he laid there, thinking and feeling nothing. At long last a stream of consciousness – or more accurately, a trickle of consciousness – began in his mind. He remembered to blink. Yes. People generally did that. A burning sensation that he hadn’t realized was paining him began to ease as he moistened his dry eyes. It felt nice. Not being in pain was nice. He tried to remember other things that were nice. Cool water. The smell of metal. The heat off a lovers body. The feel of skin against soft skin. The smell of her neck as he nuzzle against her, the feel of his teeth as they nipped her. That neck, long and slender and trembling. He wanted to grip in in his hands and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until the burning flames of his rage were quelled. He wanted to stop that burning pain however he could. Didn’t she know he could take whatever he wants?

She must know. He had told her. He mouthed the words, testing the weight of them. “You know I can take whatever I want?” Whatever he wanted. What had he wanted? He had wanted… he beetled his brow in concentration. He had wanted … to hurt her. Yes. He was going to hurt the girl. Because he was mad… and drunk… and just because. There was fear in her eyes. He remembered that utter terror as she quivered before him. She was thin and frail, so much weaker than him. Thoroughly breakable. And she was scared. Something tugged at his gut. He felt seasick… uneasy…. Angry with the past. There was a word for this, but it was a struggle to dredge it up... guilt. Yes, he felt guilty. He had intended to hurt her in the most intimate and hideous way a man can hurt a woman. Another word clawed it’s way up from the depths. MONSTER. That was the word for evil creatures who harmed those who didn’t deserve it. Who destroyed for the sake of destruction and had hatred flowing through them like blood. Yes, he was a monster. He, Kylo Ren, was a monster. The realization left a sad, hollow pang in his chest. Like a bell.

A BELL! Yes, a bell had sounded causing his world to snap shut like a closed book. And the girl she was…. She was… nowhere. 

With a gasping intake of breath, he sat up. The world swirled around him, colors eddying and blending into a paisley haze before snapping quickly back into place. The pulsing, distorted seashell sounds he had been hearing before seemed to get louder, the pitch fluctuating wildly like a bad recording. On instinct he clasped his hands to his ears, crying out and pulling his knees to his chest. For a long moment, he sat that way, curled on the floor. After a moment, the sounds and images before him came into focus. He was in a damp cement room lined with rows of metal shelves packed haphazardly with rubbish – broken machinery, metal file boxes, trunks and crates. The lighting was dim florescent. It felt damp and forgotten. A trash compactor, maybe? Or a basement? Either way, no windows. No doors. The sounds also came into focus. The whirring of computers, dull overlapping voices, distant music, typing. Beside him on the floor was a fat man in a white maintenance uniform. He stared blankly at the ceiling, unmoving and unfeeling. 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”

Kylo Ren spun around at the high pitched, grating voice that burst through the background noise like a sledge hammer. There was a man seated behind him. He was slouched at a workbench on the far wall , totally engrossed in tinkering with a small mechanical device. Mounted on the wall above where the figure sat were several monitors. Some displayed static, another streamed text that seemed to scroll on and on endlessly. Still others showed small videos and images that seemed to flicker in and out randomly – hands typing, then looking up to a man frowning, a view out the windshield of a vehicle, a plate of food, a foot emerging luxuriously from a milky bath, a red velvet box. The man glanced occasionally at these screens, then returned to his work soldering wires in his little gadget. 

“Glad to see you’ve decided to join the world of the living. Well, close enough anyways.”

A million questions crowded in Kylo Rens head as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. How had he gotten there? Where was his ship? Who was this man? Why was he so damnably confused? But ultimately, the question that reigned victorious was… 

“Where is she!?”

The man rooted through a pile of junk on his workbench and pulled out a small bottle of adhesive. He waved it under his nose, giving it an exaggerated sniff before applying it to some part of his machine. He gestured with the bottle as though he wanted Kylo to continue speaking.

“She? She who? The Queen of England? Amelia Erheart? Patty Flemming? I’m gonna need you to be more specific, spaceman.” He let out a hissing giggle.

Kylo pulled himself to his feet. He was shakey, but intact and uninjured. He remembered his name, and his life was coming back to him in bits and pieces, yet trying to remember was still painful. He felt like he was trying to paste together the scraps of a torn up document fished from a waste paper basket. There were missing pieces and it all felt a bit crumpled. 

“She was there… with me in my quarters… then she was gone…” he blinked several times, trying to remember every detail of their encounter. 

“Ah, yeah, you mean she with a capital ‘S’, huh? Yeah, she’s fine. Sleeping.” He nodded his head towards the monitors. 

“Snug as a bug in a rug. Too bad your little romp was cut short, eh? She’d be sleeping a little sounder then!” he burst into a noisy, barking laugh and bent double over his workbench. 

Kylo looked on, confused. “I was going to… I wanted to hurt her.” 

The man at the bench stilled for a moment, then put down his screwdriver and spun slowly on his stool. Kylo stumbled back a step at the sight of him. For a moment, he seemed like a demon with dead, black eyes and blood smeared across his pale contorted face. But no, it was paint. Only paint, Kyle reassured himself. The man looked up at Kylo from half lidded eyes. He smacked his lips before speaking.

“No, hos, you didn’t. She was running that rodeo.” He rose to his feet and Kylo looked him up and down. The man was a full head shorter than him, but lithe and well muscled in a slim sort of way. He wore a button down shirt in a loud lavender and green print rolled up to his elbows, and a purple vest. His pants were a deep Kelly green and a pair of suspenders hung from his hips. Even with their difference in size, the smaller man seemed to dominate the room. There was something feral about him, like a mad dog. 

“You couldn’t hurt her if you tried. All you can do is what she wants you to do.”

Kylo shook his head. “No. No, that’s not right. I took advantage of my position. I should have reprimanded her and sent her along, but I was angry and… and what do you mean I did what she wanted? That’s insane, no woman wants that.”

“yeah, no, that got a little dark there at the end. No, that’s not normally her bag of donuts. Not that it matters, but she felt a little icky about it, too. She’s just trying to get the story straight between the two of you… ya know, set the origin. Or maybe she just wanted to get off quick, what do I know?” 

The painted man spread his arms and shrugged in resignation, taking another step towards Kylo. A beam of light from the florescents hit the man’s face. From their close proximity, Kylo could see the scars twisting across his cheeks.

“What happen to your face?” Kylo asked bluntly, squinting down at the man. 

The painted man stared blankly for a moment, emotion draining from his expression and his eyes going black. Kylo was struck with the sudden thought that the man might hit him, but instead he broke out in sudden, explosive laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye and gathered himself enough to respond, his voice still breaking.

“ I could ask the same of you, buddy! I guess our girl has a type, huh? She likes scars. Scars and fiends and people as broken as she is.”

Kylo brought his hand to his face, tracing the thick, fresh scar that trailed from his forehead to his chin. The memory of how he received it was clear in his mind, but distant. As though it had happened to someone else. “what do you mean, ‘our girl’” Kylo asked.

The man pulled a purple wallet from his back pocket. He flipped it open to reveal a picture of the girl Kylo had terrorized back in his room. She was thin, with brown hair and a big smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. Kylo grabbed at the wallet and the painted man pulled it out of his reach. 

“Her names Lee. Lee Holloway. I say ‘our girl’ but that’s not entirely true. She’s my girl. I’ve been here too long and put in too much work to hand ownership over to some emo Ziggy Stardust.”

“Ziggy what?” asked Kylo, confused.

The man gritted his teeth in frustration, “He was David Bowie’s alter ego… David Bowie is – you know what, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. You might not realize it , Spaceman, but we have been at this for a while, now. I keep loosing my temper and having to start all over so I’m going to try my best to spell this out for ya real clear and simple,”

The painted man placed his hands together and took a deep breath in and out, calming his anger. 

“You are not real. I am not real. This room is not real. We are in some little corner of Lee Holloway’s mind. We only exist here because she has invested a whole hell of a lot of time thinking about us. Other guys come and go, but I have been here…. Well, I’ve been here a long time. I was hoping you were a passing phase or a brief obsession, but you keep coming back so… well, I guess I gotta learn to live with ya. So… questions?”

Kylo opened and closed his mouth several times I confusion. He understood The man’s words, but at the same time he couldn’t comprehend them.

“So… who are you?”

The mad smiled broadly, running his fingers through his greasy green hair. “You can call me Joker.”

At that moment a thin voice trembled from below them. 

“As you will it, Lord Ren. A-as you will it, Lord Ren" 

Dotham Gragher, Head of Maintenance for The Finalizer, was waking up at last. Kylo had quite forgotten that the chubby man had been laying beside him on the cold cement floor. He still didn’t stir, and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but his face contorted in concentration and his fingers flexed as he repeated over and over in a wavering voice “as you will it, Lord Ren.”

The Joker bent at the waist to examine the man. He waived his hand in front of Dotham's unblinking eyes. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” he looked up at Kylo and mouthed an exaggerated ‘no’.

“Would you look at this dodo? She didn’t put much thought into this one… just a name and a couple lines. I don’t know why he ended up here in the first place, she must have meant to circle back to him later on... Ah well, too bad.”

From behind his back, The Joker pulled a long, rusty crow bar. Kylo barely had time to shout out as he swung it high and brought the crowbar crashing down on Doltham’s head with a sickening crack. Kylo stumbled backwards, tripping over a trunk and falling flat on his rump. He raised his arm over his face, but not before catching a splash of blood across his front. It coated his forehead and chest in a thick splatter. He watched in horror as The Joker swung the bar over and over, putting his full body into each swing and grinning from ear to ear. The squelching sound as he pulled the bar free after each strike made Kylo wretch. 

Kylo was a killer, that was certain, but he could never stand the sight of blood. A blaster or his trusty light saber killed cleanly, cauterizing as it performed its deadly task with surgical precision. Yes, Kylo had created his fair share of corpses, but this… this was viscous. Not because of the sudden burst of violence, but because of the joy The Joker so clearly took from his actions. His smile widened with each strike and he burst out in uncontrollable, manic laughter.

When at long last Dotham ceased twitching and his skull was nothing more than a soup bowl for what had once been his face, the Joker threw his crow bar on the floor with a clatter. Blood flowed thickly into a nearby floor drain. The man’s head was a wet ruin. Kylo looked on, wide eyed and trying desperately not to vomit. 

The Joker looked from Kylo to the smear on the floor and back again. He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. His tongue flicked out to lick the scarred corners of his lips and his eyes were half lidded and joyless once more.

“Ehh. Population control.” He said with a shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo Hoo hoo! Chapter 2! I didn't give up after 1 chapter, so I'm thoroughly proud of myself! Thank you to anyone who reads this and consider commenting if you have the time!


End file.
